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GRAY 
Change . 


CHANGE: 


A     POEM 


PRONOUNCED    AT    ROXBURY, 


OCTOBER  VIII,  MDCCCXXX, 


IN   COMMEMORATION 


FIRST  SETTLEMENT  OF  THAT  TOWN. 


BY  THOMAS  GRAY,  JR.   M.  D. 


ROXBURY: 


PUBLISHED    BY    CHARLES    P.    EMMONS. 
J.  H.  Eastburn... .Printer. ...Boston. 


MDCCCXXX. 


v^^ 


DISTRICT  OF  MASSACHUSETTS.— <(?  wit  : 

District  Clerk's  Office. 
BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  That  on  the  nineteenth  day  of  October, 
A.  D.  1830.  in  the  fifty  fifth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United 
States  of  America,  CHARLES  P.  EMMONS,  of  the  said  District,  has  de- 
posited in  this  Office  the  Title  of  a  Booi<,  the  Right  whereof  he  claims  as 
Proprietor  in  the  words  following,  to  wit: 

"Change  :  A  Poem  pronounced  at  Roxbury,  October  viii,  mdcccxxx. 
In  commemoration  of  the  First  Settlement  of  that  Town,  by  Thomas 
Gray,  Jr.  M.  D. 

In  Conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled 
"  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of 
Maps,  Charts  and  Books,  lo  the  Authors  and  Proprietors  of  such  copies 
during  the  times  therein  mentioned  :"  and  also  to  an  Act  entitled  "  An 
Act  supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled,  an  Act  for  the  encouragement  of 
learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts  and  Books  to  the  Au- 
thors and  Proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the  times  therein  mentioned  ; 
and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and 
etching  hrstorical  and  other  prints." 

JNO.  W.  DAVIS, 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


IJBRARY 

vmv^risvrY  OF  CAUFOfiiiu 

SAInTA  BAHBAaA 


TOWN    or    ROXBURY. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Citizens  of  Roxbury,  lield  on  the  8tli  of 
October  1830,  it  was  Voted, — That  the  Selectmen  of  the  Town  be  a 
Committee  to  wait  on  Dr.  Thomas  Gray,  Jr.  and  in  behalf  of  their 
fellow-citizens  tender  him  their  thanks  for  his  patriotic,  elegant,  and 
very  appropriate  Poem,  delivered  by  him  on  that  day  in  commemo- 
ration of  the  first  settlement  of  the  Town,  and  request  of  him  a  copy 
for  the  press. 

The  Subscribers,  Selectmen  of  Roxbury,  in  communicating  tiie 
above  vote,  would  individually  express  their  hopes  that  the  request 
therein  contained  will  be  complied  with. 

Elijah  Lewis, 
B.  P.  Williams, 
Jonathan  Dorr, 
Samuel  Guild, 
Jacob  Tidd. 
Roxbury,  October  13,  18-30. 

* 

Boston,  October  13,  1830. 
Messrs.  Elijah   Lewis,   B.   P.   Williams,  Jonathan    Dorr, 
Samuel  Guild,  and  Jacob  Tidd. 
Gentlemen, 
In  acceding  to   the  request  of  the  citizens  of  my  native  town, 
made  through  you,  my  only  regret  is,  that  the  Poem  in  question,  is 
not  more  worthy  of  them  and  of  the  occasion. 

Permit  me,  gentlemen,  to  express  through  you  my  deep  sense  of 
the  honor  conferred  on  me  by  you,  and  of  the  polite  manner  in 
which  their  request  is  seconded  by  yourselves. 

With  sentiments  of  profound  respect  to  the  Selectmen  of  the 
town  of  Roxbury,  and  to  yourselves  individually, 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  gentlemen. 

Your  Obedient  Servant, 

T.  GRAY,  JR. 
To  the  Selectmen  of  the  Toini  of  Roxbtny. 


CHANGE. 


When  opening  Sprin;;  first  decks  her  sunny  bowers 

With  snow-wliite  blossoms  and  with  crimson  flowers ; 

When  weary  Sickness  turns  her  sleepless  eye, 

With  anxious  vigils  to  the  eastern  sky  ; 

When  parting  Summer  flies  the  flowery  vale, 

And  Autumn  odors  perfume  every  gale  ; 

Why  does  the  heart,  'mid  sorrow's  dull  alloy, 

Hail  the  far  shadows  of  her  coming  joy  ? 

Why  the  young  spirit  saddening  turn  from  ihis, 

To  hail  a  brighter  in  another  bliss  ? 

Why  at  each  step  on  life's  rejoicing  way 

Bound  Youth's  wild  pulse  with  more  exulting  ])lay  ? 

Why  triumphs  Hope  o'er  Sorrow's  darkest  hour  ? 

Why  blooms  there  still  on  every  thorn  a  flower  ? 

Why  o'er  life's  ills  still  beams  the  hoping  eye. 

As  rainbows  brighten  o'er  a  showery  sky — 

And  each  new  object  to  the  untutored  gaze 

Still  dimly  point  to  far  yet  happier  days  ? 

'Tis  Change — the  hope  of  Change — that  bids  us  stray 

From  toil  to  toil  o'er  life's  untrodden  way — 

Unheard  the  past,  her  counsels  and  her  fears — 

Unwept  the  Changes  of  our  flying  years  ; 

Still  sings  the  syren — still  her  wiles  decoy — 

Still  tempts  our  weakness  with  illusive  joy — 

Deludes  to  quit,  at  her  inconstant  will. 

The  certain  blessine;  for  th'  uncertain  ill ; 


To  seize  the  moon,  or  grasp  ihe  sliooliiig  star — 
Jio  any — every  thing — but  what  we  are. 
Attacks  the  pulpit,  school,  the  law,  the  arts. 
Old  spinsters'  testaments  and  maidens'  hearts  ; 
'Mid  courts  and  camps  and  men  is  seen  to  range 
And  even  fair  woman  has  been  known  to  change. 

Yes !  the  glad  tides  of  life  and  culture  flow 
Where  forests  frowned  two  hundred  years  ago — 
Improvement's  golden  ploughshare  has  passed  o'er, 
And  weeded  errors  strew  the  flowery  shore. 

When  first  the  May-flower  on  this  rock  bound  strand 
Sent  forth  her  '  few  and  faithful'  pilgrim  band. 
No  friendly  foot  stood  w-aiting  on  the  shore 
To  bid  them  '  welcome  home,'  their  wanderings  o'er ; 
To  hail  with  joy  the  long  expected  guest 
From  weary  wanderings,  to  delightful  rest ; 
Where  trembling  joy  half  doubts  her  happy  lot, 
Blest  even  in  sorrows,  thus  to  be  forgot ; 
No  blazing  hearth,  no  cheering  voice  of  home, 
No  temple's  lofty  spire  nor  vaulted  dome, 
No  altar-fire,  no  censer's  breath  was  there, 
Where  rose  the  pilgrims  first  deep  voice  of  prayer. 
But  from  the  roofless  rock  their  praise  w^as  poured. 
Where  forests  sighed,  and  answering  surges  roared. 
And  as  their  echoing  anthem  pealed  on  high, 
The  startled  panther  howled  his  fierce  reply ; 
And  the  grim  savage  yelled  in  wild  dismay, 
And  paused  to  wonder,  where  he  came  to  slay. 

But  Change  soon  brightened  o'er  the  forest  glade — 
Light  danced  on  rills  that  long  in  darkness  played. 
The  good  old  Puritan  in  freedom  trod 
The  soil  that  owned  no  master,  but  its  God. 
With  hymns  of  praise  her  slumbering  echoes  woke  ; 
Bade  her  free  temples  rise,  her  altars  smoke — 


And  lV(!cIy  gleaned,  beneath  no  cloudless  clime, 
The  treasured  spoils  of  unrecorded  Time. 

No !  nought  on  eardi  this  mighty  power  can  mock  ; 
And  change  can  smite  the  shepherd  with  the  flock. 
When  our  stern  fathers  of  the  elder  days 
First  in  these  forests  pealed  their  hymns  of  praise, 
The  oft-turned  hourglass  marked  the  sermon's  length ; 
And  when  long  hours  had  drained  the  preacher's  strength, 
The  godly  still  were  clamorous  to  be  fed 
On  the  rich  pasture  and  the  living  bread  ; — 
With  appetites  to  cause,  though  high  their  praise. 
A  moral  indigestion  now-a-days. 
The  pastor  then  his  listening  flock  could  steep 
In  doctrine  sound  as  now  the  brethren's  sleep  ; 
Then  lungs  and  noses  no  joint  requiem  poured, 
Nor  men  preached  louder  than  their  hearers  snored. 
Yet  texts  were  strung  like  apples  hung  to  dry ; 
No  reason  wherefore,  and  no  matter  why — 
With  things  incongruous  each  discourse  was  rife, 
And  Cain  came  cheek-by-jowl  with  Simon's  wife.* 
And  misty  comments  filled  the  mystic  page 
With  thoughts,  but  very  little  for  their  age.f 

Change  entered  here — men  now  the  pulpit  dirong 
As  wise,  as  pious,  but  not  quite — as  long. 
Servant  of  God  !  as  then,  'tis  your's  to  heal 
The  restless  woes  that  wounded  spirits  feel. 
Yours  is  the  glorious  meed  of  endless  bliss — 
Life  in  the  world  to  come,  and  peace  in  this. 
'Mid  heaviest  trials,  anguish,  pain  and  loss. 
Ye  wear  his  livery,  and  must  bear  his  cross. 

♦Alluding  to  an  account  of  an  old  discourse  for  which  since  writing 
the  above  I  have  sought  in  vain,  in  which  the  object  of  the  |)rcacl)er,)'r()m 
the  words  "  Now  Simon's  wife's  mother  lay  sick  of  a  fever"  was  to 
prove  that  Simon  was  a  married  man. 

+  This  sword  a  dagger  had  t'  his  page 
That  was  but  little  for  his  age.     HwUbras. 


8 

Tis  yours  to  search  the  sorrows  of  the  mind  ; 
The  tear  to  dry,  the  broken  heart  to  bind — 
With  high  commission  through  the  world  to  roam, 
And  bring  each  wanderer  to  his  father's  home — 
To  lead  the  flock  where  living  pastures  grow, 
And  the  deep  waters  of  salvation  flow. 
And  when  the  race  is  run — when  life  is  past, 
And  tired  ye  sink  to  dreamless  sleep  at  last. 
Bright  angel  bands  shall  guard  the  grassy  sod, 
And  track  your  footsteps  to  the  home  of  God. 
On  the  pure  brow  celestial  light  shall  pour, 
With  glory's  crown,  and  life  forevermore. 

Years  glide  along — in  silent  swiftness  plays 
The  Change  that  steals  away  our  flying  days. 
But  sadness  lingered  now  where  joy  had  been. 
And  grief  hung  dark'ning  o'er  each  sunbright  scene. 
Then  shrunk  the  flowers  on  Freedom's  fairy  tree. 
And  drooped  thy  lofty  genius,  Liberty. 
Long  did'st  thou  weep  unheeded  and  alone, 
And  mourned  like  Memnon*  as  each  sun  went  down  ;- 
Ay  !  wept — 'till  grief  to  indignation  turned — 
And  strong  and  bright  within,  thy  spirit  burned. 

And  dien  another  Change  came  o'er  the  land, 
Where  iron  power  had  urged  her  stern  command. 
Where  bristling  bayonets  gleamed  from  north  to  south, 
And  laws  were  uttered  from  the  cannon's  mouth  ; 
Doomed  soon  to  sink  beneath  a  crimson  flood, 
And  unlike  Draco's,  be  effaced  in  blood. 

Then  burst  around  the  dark  oppressor's  path 
The  earthquake  power  of  Freedom's  fearful  wrath. 
The  timid  wife  forgot  her  fond  alarms  ; 
The  sister  girded  on  the  brother's  arms  ; 


*  Perhaps  it  may  be  esteemed  rather  too  bold  a  figure,  thus  to  identify 
the  statue  with  tiie  man,  if  so,  I  can  but  plead  guilty. 


Tlie  daughter  braced  tlie  lather's  glittering  sword  ; 

Nor  Beauty  bent  to  him,  the  well  adored  ; 

But  blushing  warned  him,  as  he  grasped  the  gun, 

That  ere  herself,  must  Liberty  be  won. 

Through  every  breast  the  moral  tempest  moved, 

Nor  ev'n  the  mother  spared  the  child  she  loved. 

"  Go  forth"  she  said,  "  obey  the  voice  divine ; 

Thy  country  calls  in  deeper  tones  than  mine. 

Strike  in  her  cause  while  Heaven  has  power  to  save — 

Thy  hand  a  weapon,  or  the  earth — a  grave. 

In  life's  red  tide  must  peasant  hands  be  steeped — 

Your  fields  unwatered,  and  your  grain  unreaped  ; — 

Those  fields  must  drip  beneath  a  criaison  flood, 

Be  sowed  in  battle,  and  be  reaped  in  blood. 

Then  mid  that  fiery  tempest  fix;  thine  eye 

Where  Freedom's  beacon  blazes  in  the  sky  ; 

For  her  thy  life,  thy  blood,  like  water  pour — 

Return  in  victory — or  return  no  more — 

And  bid  yon  starry  banner  glorious  wave 

Above  thy  triumph — or  upon  thy  grave." 

Tiien  dropped  the  sickle  from  the  reaper's  hand — 
The  scythe  lay  idle  on  the  unmowed  land — 
The  plough  stood  midway  in  its  furrow  drawn — 
Unreaped  the  harvest,  and  unsowed  the  corn. 
The  sturdy  peasant  dropped  the  useless  spade, 
To  grasp  the  musket  and  to  wield  the  blade — 
And  swore  as  flashed  its  sheathless  edge  on  high 
To  live  in  freedom  or  for  freedom  die. 

Then  Freedom  first  her  sunbright  flag  unfurled, 
And  spake  in  thunder  to  a  wondering  world. 
Roused  from  her  slumbers  bade  the  earth  rejoice  ; 
Reared  her  proud  form,  and  uttered  foith  her  voice. 
Then  snapt  in  twain  Oppression's  iron  rod, 
And  man  walked  forth  the  image  of  his  God. 
Then,  tyrants,  passed  away  your  sceptre,  then 
Ye  felt  the  might  of  those  who  dared  be — men. 


10 


Tlieii  rose  tlio  first  libations  of  the  free — 
Tlicti  thy  best  holiest  altar,  Liberty  ; — 
And  Change  stalked  forth  from  'neath  oppression's  rod, 
The  scourge  of  tyrants,  and  the  friend  of  God. 

And  education  too  obeys  thy  power 
^V^ith  systems  changing  with  each  changing  hour  ; 
Now,  children  cull  each  flower  from  brambles  freed, 
And  learn  each  science  ere  they  Itvirn  to  read. 
Now  mathematics  marries  poetry, 
And  set  to  music  is  the  A.  B.  C.  " 
AVhile  moral  railways  through  each  science  glide, 
And  mental  steamboats  laugh  at  wind  and  tide  ; 
Extremes  forever  still  extremes  will  breed, 
And  to  too  little,  will  too  much  succeed. 

Once  Learning  floated  on  a  starless  sea, 
And  each  fair  flower  adorned  a  thorny  tree. 
Then  the  glad  schoolboy  sprang  with  joy  alert 
From  rods  and  tasks  to  wallowing  in  the  dirt ; 
And  clouds  of  darkness,  spite  of  grammar's  laws, 
O'erspread  at  once  his  accent  and  his  pnivs. 
No  matter  though  even  common  sense  he  lack  ; 
What  if  he  had  no  brain  ?  he  had  a  back — 
And  oft  'twas  drummed — and  well  our  sires  can  tell 
How  Learning  entered  where  the  cowskin  fell — 
How  proved  each  stripe  across  his  back  that  flew, 
A  sluice,  where  Knowledge  ran  in  gutters  through. 

Then  Learning's  altars  flamed  with  genial  birch. 
And  tingling  ribs  proclaimed  how  keen  its  search  ; 
And  wit  and  wisdom  found  their  straightest  track 
Up  to  the  brain  by  travelling  through  the  back — 
Just  as  the  woodman  makes  his  axe  descend 
Its  handle  best,  by  thumping  t'other  end  ; — 
And  still  their  course  they  well  knew  how  to  strew 
With  bumps  that  Gall  and  Spurzheim  never  knew. 

*  By   Rev,  Mr.  Woodbridge. 


11 


Lo  !   where  w  illi  reekleys  foolste|)  Cliau^^c  Iki.s  lro»l 
Even  in  tlie  porclnvay  of  the  house  of  God. 
There  Pride  in  vain  commissioned  virtue  probes, 
Where  Fashion  tricks  lier  in  Religion's  robes. 
There  swelling  Vanity  her  tribute  seeks 
For  new  made  dresses,  and  for  rosy  cheeks  ; 
And  Beauty  deems,  to  judge  by  deeds  alone, 
The  eye  of  Heaven  less  piercing  than  her  own. 
There  boys  and  girls  in  twelve  year  wisdom  sage 
The  learned  critics  of  this  learned  age 
Decide  the  preacher's  merits  for  papa 
At  once  the  wonder  of  the  town  and  'ma. 
There  literary  dandies  weekly  stray, 
Not  for  what  Heaven,  but  what  the  j)rcachors  say. 
Whose  ear  an  uncouth  accent  cannot  bear, 
Even  though  Jehovah  speak  in  thunder  there  ; 
Wliose  dainty  spirits  but  on  flowers  can  rise, 
And  roll  in  rounded  periods  to  the  skies. 
There  pious  females  cluster  round  the  door, 
To  scan  the  preacher,  modes  and  sermon  o'er. 
''  La  !  what  a  beautifid  discourse  and  eye — 
;Dear  me  !  how  eloquent !  how  black  !  oh,  my  !" 
There  half-day  saints  with  Heaven  hard  bargains  tirivc. 
How  to  gain  most  at  least  expense,  who  strive — 
Who  keep  an  open  ledger  book  with  Heaven, 
And  debit  half  a  day,  to  credit  seven  j 
Yet  swindle  in  the  entry,  which  should  bear. 
Not  that  they  prayed,  but  slept  at  heaven,  while  there. 
There  weary  Indolence  is  weekly  blest. 
With  dreamy  slumbers  and  unbroken  rest. 
Unless  perchance  from  raid  the  various  crowd. 
Some  noisy  neighbour  chance  to  sleep — too  loud. 

Oh,  glorious  Change  !  why  lingercst  thou  afar  ! 
^Vhy  stay  the  wheels  of  thy  triumphal  car  ! 
!I)ome  in  thy  power — to  triumph  and  restore — 
3n  a  dark  world  celestial  light  to  pour  ; 


12 


IVid  wayward  man  each  restless  conflict  cease. 

Heal  every  wound,  and  soothe  each  pang  to  peace. 

Bid  Faith  fioat  brightning  o'er  this  life's  dark  tide ; — 

The  lamb  crouch  harmless  at  the  leopard's  side ; — 

Siicd  down  on  earth  the  dawn  of  heavenly  bliss, 

And  pour  from  other  worlds,  a  light  on  this — 

With  awful  reverence  and  submissive  fear, 

Teach  man  to  bow  and  feel  that  God  is  here. 

Come  in  thy  triumph — let  the  nations  know 

The  power  where  kings  must  bend,  where  conquerors  bow 

Bear  down  each  w^'ong — each  right  to  guard  be  just — 

Crusii  every  vice  and  folly  in  the  dust. 

And  bigotry  with  error's  gloom  replete. 

And  trample  worthless  systems  at  thy  feet. 

Where  Learning's  torch  but  gleams  with  feeble  ray, 

Pour  the  full  blaze  of  Truth's  resplendent  day  ; 

Beneath  thy  chariot  wheels  bid  Falsehood  lie. 

And  Ignorance,  chained  beneath  thy  axle  die — 

There  bid  the  victor's  blood  stained  laurels  fall, 

Thyself  the  noblest  conqueror  of  them  all. 

Lo  !  where  thy  power  dread  Change,  we  sorrowing  see 
Sweep  the  fair  portion  of  the  Cherokee, 
Its  chartered  lord  by  nature,  treaty,  law — 
The  savage  once — the  savage  now  no  more. 

See  where  yon  aged  warrior  seeks  relief 
Beneath  the  burden  of  his  manly  grief; 
And  as  the  child  by  threatening  danger  prest 
Flies  to  the  shelter  of  a  parent's  breast, 
There  hides  its  head,  and  soothes  its  wild  alarms, 
And  weeps  its  sorrows  in  its  mother's  arms. 
So  in  the  bosoni  of  the  land  he  loves. 
With  musing  step  and  aching  heart  he  roves. 
In  the  still  forest,  by  the  streamlet's  side, 
Unseen  he  weeps  his  sorrow's  bitter  tide ; 
And  while  his  soul's  deep  fountains  gushing  flow, 
He  thus  pours  forth  his  anguish  and  his  woe  : 


13 

And  must  1  leave  ye,  lone  and  lovely  bowers, 
Where  flew  on  lightning  wings  the  joyous  hours ! 
How  does  this  spirit  kindle  as  I  gaze 
On  each  dear  relic  of  departed  days  ! 
The  forest  archway,  and  the  tangled  glade. 
The  rippling  waters,  and  the  freshening  shade, 
The  drooping  elm-tree,  and  the  murmuring  pine, 
The  leafy  thicket  and  the  cultured  vine  — 
Soon  must  we  leave  ye,  oh  !  too  soon  deplore 
The  joy  so  deeply  ours — soon  ours  no  more. 
Yon  tree  which  tales  of  whispering  love  could  tell. 
Now  sadly  sighing  to  my  last  farewell, 
The  fountain  sparkling  in  the  sunny  glade, 
Where  old  age  counselled  and  where  childhood  played. 
The  ivy  mantling  yonder  broken  wall, 
JVly  hope,  my  home,  my  country,  and  my  all, 
How  could  1  live  and  leave  ye ! — how  could  bear 
To  wear  out  life  and  want  thy  vital  air  ! 

Go  forth  from  thee,  an  exile  and  alone, 

My  loved,  my  lost,  my  beautiful,  my  own  ! 

How  could  I  bear,  in  speechless  sorrow  mute 

To  see  the  stranger's  foot  thy  soil  pollute, 

While  faithless  tyrants  mock  at  broken  trust, 

Stand  coldly  by,  nor  smite  them  to  the  dust ; 

Stand  coldly  by  ye  and  unmurmuring  see 

Our  altars  torn,*  yet  sacred,  God,  to  thee ! 

Why  should  I  quit  the  ashes  of  my  sires ; 

Is  not  the  son's  place  where  the  sire  expires  ? 

I  will  not  leave  thee — where  my  fathers  lie, 

I'll  seek  thy  shelter — in  thy  bosom  die. 

No  foreign  earth  shall  hold  the  red  man's  grave — 

No  foreign  rank  grass  o'er  this  head  shall  wave — 

But  to  thy  sacred  dust  thy  child  shall  come, 

Sleep  in  thy  arms,  and  find  a  peaceful  home  ; 

*"They,"  (the  Chcrokees)  "now  have,  in  addition  to  their  scliools,  a 
regular  civil  government,  and  places  of  regulur  Christian  icorship.'^ 
V.  Essays  of  Wni.  Pcnn. 


14 


There  rest  scciiri;,  tlioui^h  .storms  and  tempests  lower, 
Where  niei)  and  tyrants  have  no  farther  power. 

And  thou  my  child,  by  heavy  grief  o'erborne, 
How  wilt  thou  bear  thee  when  thy  fatlier  's  gone, 
AVhose  eye  on  thee  hath  never  aught  but  smiled — 
Who  then  shall  shield  thy  innocence,  my  child, 
When  left  alone  on  life's  uncertain  way, 
To  evil  tongues  and  evil  men  a  prey  ? 
Then  guard  thy  heart,  and  check  each  wayward  sigh  ; 
Watch  every  wandering  with  a  jealous  eye  ; 
Firm  be  thy  trusting  faith  as  rocks  endure — 
And  pure  tliy  hope  in  heaven,  as  heaven  is  pure. 
And  thou,  my  foolish  heart,  be  still !  nor  more 
Thy  ravished  home,  thy  perished  joy  deplore  ; — 
For  not  unheard  will  Truth  to  Heaven  complain, 
Nor  Mercy  plead  for  Innocence  in  vain. 

Yet  wilt  thou  love  the  more  than  Fortune  gave, 
Thy  mother's  memory,  and  thy  father's  grave — 
And  from  each  grave  by  stranger  footsteps  trod, 
Shall  rise  one  deep  appeal  to  heaven  and  God. 

How  should  1  bear  to  raise  thy  drooping  head, 
And  weep  and  watch  around  thy  feverish  bed  ! 
How  should  /  bear  a  stranger  land  to  see. 
Deprived  of  home,  of  country,  and  of  thee  ! 
When  not  one  sad  memorial  shall  remain — 
Not  even  thy  answering  look  of  love  again. 
How  should  /bear — my  child,  my  country  low, 
All  of  life's  scorn,  and  more  than  all  its  woe; 
And  calmly,  coldly,  turn  me  to  depart, 
>Vidi  tearless  sorrow — and  a  breaking  heart. 

Yet  must  I  learn  unmoved  our  foes  to  see — 
To  pray  for  them — but  most  of  all  for  thee. 
And  ero  this  throbbing  heart  shall  cease  to  live. 
To  breathe  to  heaven  that  hardest  prayer — "  for2;ive." 


15 


Yes,  Righteous  God  !  avert  thy  (.Ircadful  curse, 
And  spare  our  iiairdcrcrs,  as  they  spared  not  us. 

Thou  hast  thy  changes,  Fashion,  and  to  thee 
The  niukitude  doth  bow  the  lowly  knee. 
How  shift  the  varying  wonders  of  the  day  ! 
How  chan2;e  to  chance  and  whim  to  whim  srivcs  wnv  ! 
Swilt  as  the  breeze,  the  changing  topics  sweep 
From  Jackson  linen  to  merino  sheep — 
From  the  French  dancers  to  the  Boston  flats — 
From  Brighton  hogs,  to  Navarino  hats  ; 
Whose  bulk  capacious  and  whose  breadth  before 
Forbid  to  enter  at  a  common  door — 
Whose  wearer  must,  should  luckless  gales  arise. 
Be  wafted  like  Elijah  to  the  skies. 
Who  hath  not  paused,  astonished  and  amazed, 
And  long  in  silence  on  the  portent  gazed  ; 
And  mused,  and  wondered  that  so  large  a  space 
Should  hold  in  all  its  bulk  but  one  small  face  ? 

Once  hoops  swelled  stately  from  the  fair  one's  side, 
And  rows  of  ruffs  stood  forth  in  well-starched  priile, 
And  spangles  glittered  o'er  like  drops  of  rain, 
And  pages  bore  behind  tlie  flowing  train  ; 
Like  those  strange  sheep  veracious  travellers  flnil, 
Who  drag  their  tails  on  carriages  behind.* 

With  rapid  course  the  speeding  fashions  fly. 
As  clouds  drive  fleetly  o'er  a  wintry  sky ; 
And  Beauty  takes,  at  her  all  varying  call. 
Each  Proteus  form,  and  triumphs  in  them  all. 
Now  sprinkled  o'er  with  flowers  and  ribbons  gay, 
As  if  some  ^reen-house  bed  had  walked  awav — 


*For  an  account  of  these  Turkish  sheep  "  wliose  tails  are  encumbered 
with  an  incredible  load  of  fat"  (which  is  upcd  by  the  Turks  for  butter) 
which  tails  "  weigh  20,  30.  and  often  40  lbs,"  and  are  therefore  supporlid 
"  on  two  wlieeied  charriagcd  contrived  for  the  purpopc"  lo  wlmb  ilie 
animal  is  harnessed,  see  A.  Hill's  present  stale  of  .Ethiopiii,  Etrypl"  S^<  • 


16 


Anon  as  simply  and  as  slraiglitly  draped, 

As  if  all  Egypt's  mummies  had  escaped — 

Now,  arn)s,  and  waists  and  borders  puffed  about, 

Like  flying  frigates  with  all  canvass  out — 

Now,  bishop's  sleeves  blow  round  the  fair  one's  head, 

Like  prints  of  cherubs  with  both  wings  outspread — 

Now,  ears  of  elephants  all  dangling  throng, 

Devised  by  ears  less  broad,  but  quite  as  long — 

While  forth  in  pantalettes  fair  beauty  flocks. 

Like  little  incn,  disguised  in  cartnien's  frocks. 

And  you,  ye  fair,  think  not  we  mean  to  press 
Hard  on  your  high  prerogative  of  dress; 
Nor  think  we  ridicule  your  sacred  rights, 
And  deem  us  therefore  but  uncourteous  knights  ; 
But  as  men  jest  at  force  of  civil  sway, 
And  mock  at  power  they  know  they  must  obey. 
So  smiling,  trembling,  at  your  shrine  we  fall, 
And  own  your  power,  ay  !  pantalettes  and  all. 

And  Age  hath  many  changes,  and  he  brings- 
A  long  lost  record  of  forgotten  things  ; 
Of  well-wept  errors — of  repented  strife, 
By  memory  blotted  from  the  book  of  life  ; 
Of  days  departed  and  of  sorrows  fled — 
Of  friends  long  honored,  and  of  joys  long  dead. 

Who  would  not  be  the  comet  of  a  day. 
To  blaze  and  dazzle  o'er  men's  wondering  wav. 
Rather  than  gleam  forever  from  afar, 
The  twinkling  ray  of  some  unnoticed  star  ? 
Ours  be  the  brief  and  glorious — one  short  hour 
Ol  useful  life,  is  worth  to  Virtue's  power, 
An  age  of  talents  rusting  to  decay, 
Or  centuries  dreamed  in  idleness  away. 

And  Death  too  hath  his  changes  ;  and  he  flings 
A  solemn  shadow  o'er  life's  brilliant  thinsis  : 


17 


When  one  by  one  companions  drop  away, 

As  melt  the  snow-flakes  on  a  wintry  day  ; 

Falls  from  life's  rosy  chaplet  flower  by  flower — 

And  fades  Hope's  golden  moonlight  hour  by  hour  ; 

And  Life,  exhausted  at  her  fountain  springs, 

Clasps  like  the  tired  bird  her  weary  wings — 

When  the  dimmed  soul,  long  waning  to  her  last, 

On  earth's  last  confine  calls  back  all  the  past ; 

Mid  that  bright  hour,  her  radiant  wings  unfurls, 

And  beams  on  this,  with  light  from  other  worlds  ; 

With  shadowy  grandeur  borrowed  from  on  high, 

Looks  out  in  life's  last,  solemn  majesty — 

Leans  forth  with  searching  eye  to  jiierce  the  gloom, 

And  read  on  earth  the  secrets  of  the  tomb. 

Ay  !  burns  to  pierce  the  midnight  darkness  spread 

Around  the  mysteries  of  t!ie  unknown  dead, 

We  may  not  know  ;  till  Death  the  conqueror  call, 

And  life's  last,  greatest  Change,  shall  teach  them  all. 

Thank  Heaven,  not  ours  the  land  where  titled  great 
Who  've  lived  in  infamy,  may  rot  in  state ; 
Where  fifty  tons  of  fretted  marble  groan 
Beneath  the  weight  of  scarce  twelve  pounds  of  bone. 
And  'lying  epitaphs'  above  the  spot 
Define  precisely  all  that  they  were  not. 
As  English  travellers  our  country  view, 
Then  publish  every  thing — except  what 's  true. 

Enough  of  travelled  dandies  here  we  meet, 
Their  ignorance  who've  bartered  for  conceit ; 
On  all  that  smacks  of  home  who  boldly  frown — 
To  prove  their  candor,  run  their  country  down  ; 
Who've  planted  ignorance,  and  reaped  alone, 
All  Europe's  follies  added  to  their  own — 
Who've  learned,  so  genius  sometimes  deigns  to  stoop, 
The  mode  for  waistcoats,  and  the  herbs  for  soup ; 
3 


18 

Who  chide  our  climate  till  one  would  suppose 
That  there,  heaven  sent  such  weather  as  they  chose^ 
Whate'er  your  subject,  always  pronnpt  to  laud 
Some  object  that  they,  should  have  seen,  abroad — 
At  our  own  authors,  preachers,  beauties,  skies, 
Shake  their  light  pates,  and  look  profoundly  wise. 
And  thus  it  is — still  dunce  to  dunce  succeeds, 
And  one  fool  follows  where  another  leads. 

Yet  have  we  holy  men  of  every  creed, 
In  virtue's  cause  still  eloquent  to  plead; 
With  holy  fervor,  pious  zeal,  who  preach, 
And  live  the  sacred  doctrines  that  they  teach — 
Where  learning,  eloquence  and  worth  conspire, 
The  apostle's  wisdom,  and  the  prophet's  fire; 
And  sunsets  too,  whose  glorious,  gorgeous  dyes, 
Were  never  matched  beneath  Italian  skies. 
I  would  not  give  our  rocks,  our  hard  wrought  sand, 
For  isles  of  gold,  Arabia's  spicy  land. 
Nor  one  bright  spot  where  Freedom's  sun  has  shone, 
For  all  the  chains  and  bayonets  of  a  throne. 

And  not  in  vain  dawned  learning's  brighter  day, 
And  heaven  eyed  Science  held  her  golden  sway  ; 
Explored  each  mine,  and  braved  each  rugged  steep, 
Searched  every  land,  and  sounded  every  deep; 
Change  enters  but  destroys  not — brighter  grows 
The  light  from  learning's  torch  that  gladdening  flows- 
Some  weeds  will  still  each  nobler  science  choak. 
As  ivy  twines  round  the  manly  oak. 
Lo !  Galileo,  in  a  dungeon  bound, 
Because  he  dared  believe  the  earth  turned  round— 
And  the  wise  sage  who  marked  the  planets  laws, 
A  demi-martyr  in  fair  learning's  cause. 

'Tis  mystery  still  the  vulgar  mind  has  fed — 
For  this  the  Pythian  spoke,  the  Athenian  bled  ; — 


19 


In  every  art  change  bears  a  mixed  alloy — 

At  times  for  evil,  and  at  times  for  joy ; 

And  still  in  every  age  and  every  land 

Men  most  admire  where  least  they  understand. 

The  bold  empiric  rears  his  shameless  head 
Where  scarce  ev'n  Heaven's  archangels  dare  to  tread. 
Where  skill's  and  learning's  high  apostles  pause, 
He  fears  no  danger,  who  knows  not  its  cause  ; 
As  skilless  sailors  sometimes  safely  sweep ! 
Where  wisdom  dares  not  tempt  the  shoaly  deep. 
Death  grins  in  vials,  shoots  in  patent  pills, 
And  mortal  med'cines  cure  all  mortal  ills. 

The  pulpit  too  might  sometimes  blush  to  bear 
The  holy  mimics  who  exhibit  there, 
When  reverend  actors  deign  the  desk  to  thump, 
Who  well  might  change  the  pulpit  for  the  pump. 

The  brawling  pettifogger  warps  the  law 
To  make  all  tangled  that  was  plain  before  ; 
With  hopeless  gloom  girds  every  cause  about, 
And  shuts  each  lingering  ray  of  reason  out — 
While  every  hour  but  makes  the  darkness  worse, 
And  nought  grows  lighter — but  the  client's  purse — 
Law's  scavengers — in  each  good  thing  inert ; 
And  skilled  alone  to  swecj)  up  learning's  dirt. 
For  gold,  Beelzebub  their  lord  would  own, 
And  plead  for  Moloch  before  Satan's  throne. 

With  other  hearts  and  other  eyes  we  scan 
The  upright  lawyer  and  the  honest  man. 
And  one  there  was*  whose  worth  might  well  inspire 
A  nobler  requiem,  and  a  loftier  lyre. 
Whose  memory  well  might  grace  the  poet's  line, 
Nor  pass  unhonored,  though  by  lips  like  mine. 


*  Col.  David  S.  Greenough,  Esq. 


20 


Where  the  pale  willow  droops  her  pensive  bough, 
And  whispering  cypress  rears  his  funeral  brow, 
Through  whose  dark  branches,  that  the  ivy  binds, 
Breathes  the  deep  diapason  of  the  winds. 
At  lingering  twilight's  solemn  thoughtful  hour. 
When  freshening  fragrance  scents  the  dew-bright  flower, 
When  thought  conies  glowing  o'er  that  sacred  sod, 
As  came  the  Hebrew  from  the  mount  of  God ; 
When  busy  memory,  tracking  scenes  long  fled. 
Holds  high  communion  with  the  viewless  dead, 
The  loved,  the  lost,  the  yearnings,  and  the  tears, 
The  deep  memorials  of  departed  years 
Graved  in  man's  restless  heart — when  these  arise. 
And  point  like  "  angel-beacons"  to  the  skies, 
Then — there — shall  memory  long  recall  thy  worth, 
Now  blest  in  other  worlds,  though  lost  on  earth. 
There  faithful  Friendship,  and  remembering  love, 
And  filial  reverence,  oft  at  e\'e  shall  rove ; 
There  Want  relieved  shall  bless  its  happier  lot, 
And  weeping  Gratitude  bedew  the  spot ; 
And  pause,  and  wonder  mid  its  aching  grief. 
That  days  so  useful,  should  have  been  so  brief. 

Life  !  oh,  it  is  not  by  a  length  of  days,. 
That  passed  unhonored  and  that  left  no  praise. 
'Tis  not  the  crowded  days  of  inany  years, 
Unmarked  by  blessings,  honored  by  no  tears, 
That  flew  as  idly  as  the  summer's  wind. 
But  left  like  that  no  breezy  health- ^Dehind  ; 
That  shed  no  rosy  freshness  on  the  bower. 
Rain  to  the  plant,  n6r  dewdrop  to  the  flower, 
That  trod  unheeding  o'er  life's  narro\V  way, 
In  coldness  wrapt,  to  sordid  self  a  prerj'^-: 
Oh  !  this  is  not  long  life — But  he  whose  name 
Shineo  in  the  mantling  light  of  Mercy's  flame, 
Whose  generous  deeds,  like  freshening  odors,  spread, 
Breathed  from  the  musk-rose  and  the  violet's  bed, 


21 


While  Charity,  whose  noiseless  foot  has  trod 
Unheard  within  and  known  hut  to  his  God, 
Pours  her  refreshing  streams  uiih  power  to  save, 
As  unseen  hreezes,  travel  o'er  the  wave ; 
And  like  the  angel  who  to  Siloani  flew, 
IMove  the  still  waters  and  refresh  them  too  ; 
And  onward,  homeward,  upward,  as  she  springs, 
Still  scatters  joy  and  healing  from  her  wings ; 
Whose  ready  aids  on  others  woes  attend ; 
The  poor  man's  patron,  and  the  good  man's  friend, 
Whose  noblest  honor  is  the  meed  of  praise. 
The  bright  memorial  of  departed  days  : 
Who  rocks  the  lid  of  waking  Want  to  sleep. 
And  bids  the  mourning  sufferer  cease  to  weep  ; 
And  as  the  flower  on  its  supporting  stem, 
Turns  to  the  sunbeam  still  her  dewy  gem. 
And  meekly,  freely  through  the  sunbright  day 
Yields  her  rich  odors  to  his  kindling  ray, 
So  he — by  deeds  of  generous  kindness  known. 
Still  turns  to  man,  but  leans  on  God  alone. 
This  is  long  life  with  crowded  Virtues  blest — 
He  lives  the  longest,  who  has  lived  the  best. 

Yes  !  on  this  native  spot  of  native  land 
Doth  Change  extend  her  all  supreme  command. 
Now,  raises  churches  at  each  others  door — 
Now,  builds  up  streets  where  nothing  stood  before — 
Now,  stirs  the  living,  now  walls  up  the  dead — 
Now,  moves  an  engine  house,  and  builds  a  shed — 
Now,  lays  out  princely  roads  with  skill  and  pains, 
And  then  to  make  them,  blows  out  rocks  and  brains — 
Anon  to  raise  our  good  old  mother's  rank. 
She  waves  her  wand,  and  lo  !  a  bustling  bank. 
Now  first  from  hence  bids  hourly  coaches  glide, 
Each  diirty  minutes  to  the  hour  that  ride  ; 
Assemblies  meet,  and  festive  bands  carouse, 
Where  six  years  since  who  dreamed  of  Norfolk  House  ? 


23 


Academies  and  carpet  factories  rise, 
And  Ladies'  Fairs  astound  the  wondering  eyes. 
New  modes  occur  to  raise  the  parish  tax  ; 
New  steeples  grow  upon  old  churches  backs, 
And  last  not  least  the  stubborn  soil,  wrought  o'er, 
Bears  two  spires  now,  that  bore  but  one  before. 

Dost  doubt  it  ?     View  our  busy  farmyards  through  ; 
Our  well-tilled  fields,  and  happy  firesides  view. 
The  skilful  husbandman  with  care  and  toil 
From  earth's  rich  bosom  gathering  home  the  spoil 
Not  the  low  serf  of  Europe's  vassal  plan. 
But  the  enlightened,  wise  and  happy  man. 
Who  hath  not  circled  round  that  cheerful  hearth, 
Where  calm  content  to  golden  hours  gave  birth  ? 
Who  hath  not  marked,  beneath  that  skilful  hand, 
How  teems  with  earth's  rich  fruits  the  smiling  land } 
Now  nurturing  sun,  now  fostering  dews  are  given. 
Shed  from  the  crystal  urns  of  yonder  heaven. 

True,  times  have  greatly  changed,  since  Tityrus  played 
The  tuneful  reed  beneath  the  beech-tree's  shade ; 
When  Palaemon,  his  flock  around  to  keep, 
Sung  Latin  eclogues  to  admiring  sheep ; 
Or  JMeliboeus'  graver  mind  preferred 
The  calm  attention  of  the  thoughtful  herd . 
And  found  a  more  attentive,  listening  crew, 
Than  modern  poets  very  often  do — 
And  while  they  gravely  chewed  the  cud,  no  doubt 
Their  oxen  wondered  what  they  were  about. 
Alternate  songs  and  pipes  beneath  the  shade 
Enamored  shepherds  to  their  cattle  played. 
Those  times  are  passed — and  with  our  Roxbury  swains, 
Alternate  kicks  and  sticks  succeed  to  strains. 
Stern  Change  assailed  the  beasts — at  learning's  fall, 
Dead  to  all  tongues  but  one  expressive  call. 
No  swain  now  sings  beneath  the  spreading  tree. 
To  birds  and  streams,  that  sing  as  loud  as  he — 


23 


The  herdsman's  song  the  cows  remember  not, 
And  all  the  sheep  their  Latin  have  forgot. 

Yet  at  the  sacred  hour  of  daylight's  close 
Turns  weary  labor  to  his  sweet  repose ; 
His  smiling  partner,  and  home's  social  glee, 
And  clustering  children  clambering  round  his  knee — 
With  thousand  things  to  tell — to  show — to  ask — 
Some  novel  picture-book,  some  well  conned  task — 
While  grand  mama  with  spectacles  on  nose, 
And  upraised  finger,  checks  if  wrong  he  goes ; 
While  smiling  sits  the  patient  mother  by 
Enjoying  all,  with  all  a  mother's  eye  ; 
And  when  thanksgiving  fires  all  cheerful  blaze, 
Goes  back  with  childhood's  glee,  to  childhood's  days — 
Romps  with  his  children  in  their  gambols  rough  ; 
Rolls  on  the  floor  in  annual  blind-man's-buft'. 
Health  gilds  each  brow,  each  scene  can  rapture  win, 
Content  without,  and  Innocence  within. 
No  weary  ennui  breaks  their  peaceful  rest. 
No  gtim  dyspepsia  racks  fAtir  joyous  breast, 
That  heaviest,  deadliest  toil  to  man  below. 
The  toil  for  pleasure,  'tis  not  theirs  to  know. 
There,  daily  peace  attends  each  day's  employ  ; 
Each  rest  from  labor,  is  an  hour  for  joy. 
These  teach  the  infant  saplings  as  they  rise. 
Like  them  to  point  their  branches  to  the  skies ; 
]\Iark  out  the  path  their  virtuous  fathers  trod, 
"  And  point  through  nature's  works  to  nature's  God" — 
These  are  our  nobles — on  our  chartered  plan. 
Kings  have  not  written  "  lord,"  but  God  has — "  man," 
His  noblest  work,  by  nobles  unsiu-passed — 
The  mould  where  God's  nobility  are  cast. 
These  are  our  jewels — these  the  noble  powers 
We  proudly  claim,  emphatically  ours. 

And  here  one  feeble  tribute  let  me  pay 
To  one  whose  name  will  never  pass  away. 


24 


The  good,  the  pious — in  the  early  days 
Who  planted  here  his  noble  palm'of  praise ; 
Who  justly  bore  "  the^apostle's"*  sacred  name, 
And  won  from  Virtue's  self,  a  virtuous  fame. 
Who  "  to  the  Indian  and  the  negro"f  bore 
Learning's  free  gift,  and  opened  wide  her  door. 
Who  from  this  pulpit,  spread  His  praise  abroad, 
And  reared  his  templesj  to  the  living  God. 
To  him  man's  holiest  peace  and  joy  were  given- 
Here,  quiet  conscience — there,  approving  heaven. 

And  what,  my  country,  what  shall  be  thy  fate 
When  next  this  day  our  children  celebrate  ? 
When  unborn  voices  hail  its  dawn  again, 
But  not  one  tongue  of  ours  repeats  the  strain  ? 
When  o'er  our  sleeping  heads  the  rank  grass  waves? 
And  wild  flowers  bloom  o'er  our  forgotten  graves  ? 
One  only  wish  1  breathe  for  vvhat  may  be — 
One  prayer  address,  Eternal  One  !  to  thee. 
Here  and  forever  may  fair  Freedom  roam, 
Here  her  high  altar,  and  her  holiest  home — 
Here,  should  Oppression  ever  dare  to  tread. 
Should  star  and  stripe  'gainst  star  and  stripe  be  spread, 
May  every  heart  and  every  hand  awake  ; 
The  first  for  Thine  and  both  for  Mercy's  sake. 
Be  Thou  their  shield — theirs,  Thy  tremendous  power — 
Their  fiery  pillar  through  that  midnight  hour. 
To  marshal  them  the  way  Thyself  first  gave 
To  a  free  country  or  a  freer  grave. 

But  if  Thy  wisdom  mark  a  darker  doom. 
If  Freedom's  cradle  must  become  her  tomb — 
At  every  rampart  may  her  faithful  band 
Fight  for  each  step,  and  perish  where  they  stand 


*The  Reverend  John  Eliot  "  the  Apostle." 

t  Eliot's  School  was  endowed  by  him   "  for  the  use  of  the  Indians  and 
Negroes  on  Jamaica  Plain  so  called.  " 
tSee  Leinpriere's  Universal  Biography. 


Still  with  their  dying  hands  her  banners  wave, 
And  her  last  bulwark  be  her  glorious  grave — 
Here  may  the  last  proud  phalanx  of  the  free 
Fall  like  the  Spartans  at  Tliermopylic  ; 
Their  latest  look  on  Freedom's  latest  sun — 
And  if  but  one  survive  that  hour — but  one — 
Be  this  inscription  written  on  his  grave — 
'  He  hved  a  coward  and  he  died  a  slave.' 

Eternal  Truth  !  thy  records  are  on  high. 
No  twilight  shadow  dims  thy  glorious  sky — 
Eternal  peace  before  thine  altar  bends — 
Eternal  life  thy  heavenward  path  attends. 
No  shadow  mingles  there — no  dull  alloy 
Dims  the  full  brightness  of  thy  perfect  joy. 
To  thee  alone  with  trusting  Faith  'tis  given 
O'erveiled  to  visit  earth  yet  dwell  in  heaven. 
Unchanged — unchangeable  thy  steadfast  ray, 
Though  kingdoms  wane,  and  systems  pass  away  ; 
And  they  shall  pass — and  when  this  scene  is  o'er, 
When  all  that  is  and  shall  be,  is  no  more ; 
When  wandering  stars  in  wild  confusion  fly, 
W^rapt  in  the  cerement  of  yon  funeral  sky  ; 
When  Hope  from  earth  has  fled  dismayed  at  last. 
And  Heaven's  last  trumpet  peals  the  judgment  blast. 
Untouched  by  Change  thou'lt  wave  thy  torch  abroad.. 
With  blaze  enkindled  at  the  thi-one  of  God. 


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TH^   LIBRARY 


AA    000  876  10^ 


